


invictus

by oxymoron_prone



Series: oxy's FFXV hell [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Audiovisual Hallucinations, Canonical Character Death, Depression, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Post-Canon, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 10:28:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14054952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxymoron_prone/pseuds/oxymoron_prone
Summary: Ignis circled back and forth between anger and depression - he’d never bargained, and he’d never denied. Acceptance seemed a long way off as it neared three years past Noctis's death and Ignis still screamed at the gods weekly about the unfairness of it all.--“You’re in bad shape, Specs,” Noctis told him one day, lounging on Ignis’s couch and tapping at the screen of his phone.





	invictus

**Author's Note:**

> well  
> here we are  
> companion piece to Invidious Victory that i didn't plan on making  
> these technically exist in the same universe - post-game.  
> some people just grieve differently than others. this way is not healthy, and indicates you should probs take some medication but i'm not a psych professional yet, so don't take any of my advice. seek out someone who has a degree, yeh?  
> anyway not necessary to read the other one before this one this one kind of sets itself up  
> -oxy

Ignis found himself more often than not sitting in front of Noctis’s tomb.

It had taken over a year to allocate the proper materials to build one for him, what with the reconstruction of Eos’s cities near-constant. The massive stone structure had been built around Noct’s coffin, and a marble statue of the fallen king had been placed onto the lid, the same as it had been with his ancestors.

Noct’s tomb was inside Insomnia, across the courtyard from the entry steps of the Citadel.

The day it had been unveiled, Ignis had asked Prompto to describe it for him.

He knew the stone was white and gray and black, with wrought-iron doors that were open during all hours of the day. The first two years brought a lot of visitors wanting to pay their respects to the late King of Kings, and so there were two Crownsguard stationed outside to protect the tomb and facilitate visitations.

He knew the royal insignia was etched all over the walls, and there was an inscription in large letters that he traced with his right hand every time he walked in.

_Noctis Lucis Caelum CXIV_

_Dawn-Bringer_

_Son, Brother, Friend, King_

He knew there were three tall, wide windows facing the East so that the light of the rising sun could pour into the room and illuminate the nameplate and the statue. Noct’s likeness held no sword of his own - not having been King long enough to have one designed or forged for him, and his father’s sword having been relocated to Regis’s own tomb.

Ignis knew that the stone representation of his friend was adorned with a fake representation of the Ring of the Lucii, and the memory of his vision burning away throbbed at his eyes.

On many occasions, Ignis found his hand covering Noctis’s statue’s hands where they were crossed over his chest. He muttered short prayers every now and again, hoping beyond all of it that his friend was okay wherever he was. A recurring dream wormed its way through his sleep - flashes of Noctis and Lunafreya healthy, smiling, happy.

But more than that, Ignis sat either inside or outside of the tomb and _fumed_ for hours on end. Anger was one of the five stages of grief, or so several academic books had informed him, and after a while everyone moves through them to end up at acceptance.

Ignis circled back and forth between anger and depression - he’d never bargained, and he’d never denied. Acceptance seemed a long way off as it neared three years past his friend’s death and Ignis still screamed at the gods weekly about the unfairness of it all.

Acceptance seemed even farther off when Ignis held a small dagger to his skin and contemplated his actions very seriously before placing it back into his bedside drawer and resolving just to stay in bed instead.

Prompto and Gladio called him sometimes, asking him whether he would enjoy an evening out.

After too many refusals, he simply stopped answering his phone.

~*~*~

When his sight returned gradually to him, Ignis wondered why with all the intrigue a lazy cat bestowed upon a nearby bird - not much.

Still, he was fully sighted fourteen years after donning the Ring, and every morning before he left his apartment in the part of Insomnia that was liveable, he put on his thickest, darkest sunglasses.

Being able to _see_ Insomnia in ruins threw a dull ache into his chest.

Being able to see Noctis’s tomb was much worse than imagining it.

*~*~*

The darkened glasses also helped Ignis block out the flashes of Noctis he saw everywhere - turning the corners into alleyways and standing in line at food stands.

He told his friends about it with much reluctance.

“You need some help, Iggy,” Prompto told him, and Gladio agreed.

Ignis agreed as well, but he didn’t say anything.

There was nothing to say.

He conceded to attending grief counseling once a week.

If his hallucinations were anything to go by, it didn’t help.

~*~*~

“You’re in _bad_ shape, Specs,” Noctis told him one day, lounging on Ignis’s couch and tapping at the screen of his phone. Quick dark blue eyes glanced up at him from a youthful face. “You know you’re not blind anymore, what’s with the glasses?”

Ignis turned back to making dinner at the stovetop, doing his best to ignore the guest in his living room.

“Hey, Igs!” Noctis called, “I’m talking to you!”

“I’m aware,” Ignis muttered under his breath, fiercely chopping up carrots with the dullest knife he owned, “I’m not listening.”

*~*~*

Ignis and Prompto sat across from each other in a small cafe that had recently reopened.

"I'm doing much better now, thank you," Ignis replied.

Noctis broke out into raucous laughter, and Prompto noticed Ignis's flinch.

"You sure, bud?" Prompto asked.

"Yeah, what a fucking lie if I ever heard one, eh, Prom?" Noctis giggled.

"I'm sure, Prompto," Ignis said, and sipped at his coffee.

~*~*~ 

“Well, isn’t this morbid?” Noctis chuckled, perched on top of his coffin, “I mean, I’m all for tradition and whatever, but I kinda wanted to be cremated, you know?”

Ignis scowled.

“C’mon, Iggy, talk to me! Haven’t gotten twenty words out of you yet,” Noctis entreated, hopping off the lid and circling his advisor.

“Leave me _alone_ ,” Ignis stressed quietly, overly-aware of the Crownsguard outside.

“Can’t,” said the dead prince, “You won’t let me.”

~*~*~

“You know I’m not him, right?” Noctis said out of the blue one day, startling Ignis into dropping the strainer into the sink.

“Pardon?” Ignis asked, and resumed washing his lettuce.

“I’m not Noctis. I’m you,” said the apparition. Noctis grinned, wolflike, an expression Ignis shuddered at.

“You can’t be him,” Ignis agreed, “your mannerisms and patterns of speech are a poor imitation of His Majesty’s - and he perished when he was physically thirty, not twenty.”

“So tell me, Ignis,” the hallucination began, “if I’m a representation of you, then that means somewhere in that head of yours, you have control over me, yes?”

Ignis paused. “I suppose so.”

“And if your conscious mind has no control over me, it must be your subconscious mind doing all of this audiovisual perception, yes?”

“I follow, yes.”

“So unless you want to be harassed by hallucinations of your _definitely dead friend_ ,” Ignis flinched and Noctis smirked at him, “then you’ll figure out _why_.”

Ignis stayed quiet for a moment and then turned his full focus to Noctis.

“Or,” Ignis countered, “you could just tell me why and spare me the trouble.”

“Trouble is, I don’t think I can,” Noctis scratched at the back of his head with one hand. “I just keep going around in circles, you know?”

“I don’t take your meaning,” Ignis said.

“Well, one minute I think it’s because you’re doing a disservice to his memory, moping around your apartment and covering your eyes when you go out even though he died to bring the _sun_ back for you-”

Ignis grew angry again, “I’m grieving, I can do as I please-”

Noctis barked out a harsh laugh to cut him off, “ _Grieving_?! For four years? I think not! No, you’re not grieving, you’re driving yourself insane. Noctis is dead, and he has been dead for years! And yet you’re looking for him everywhere - _real_ healthy, isn’t that?”

When Ignis tried to conjure a response, he found that he couldn’t.

“Then, I think to myself, the sheer length of time you’ve been drowning in your emotions says ‘guilt,’ and I wonder what you could possibly feel guilty about, Mr. I-helped-bring-back-the-daylight-and-vanquish-the-daemons,” Noctis raised a brow, “But my physical appearance tells us exactly what you feel guilty about, doesn’t it?”

“Alright, revelation reached, that’s enough,” Ignis declared, turning away.

Noctis advanced on Ignis with a frown on his face.

“But it’s not enough, is it? You think that Noctis’s death is _your fault_ \- you think you might as well have stabbed him with your own daggers on that throne, don’t you?”

“Enough,” Ignis protested. Tears burned at his eyes as Noctis spat poison across the meager distance between them.

“You _saw what would happen_! You could’ve stopped it all if you’d just told him about your vision! You stood by and _let_ it happen!” Noctis shouted.

“I said _enough_!” Ignis slammed his hand down on the countertop. His vision blurred, and he felt wetness dripping down his cheeks.

The kitchen fell silent, and Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath to keep his chest from shaking.

“Do you blame me for his death, or not?” Ignis asked quietly after a beat.

Noctis smiled wryly, “That depends. Do you blame yourself for his death?”

The non-answer twisted Ignis's mouth into a grimace.

“Get out,” Ignis ordered shortly, “I don’t want to see you here ever again.”

“Again, that depends on you, doesn’t it?”

“GET _OUT_!” Ignis raged, picking up a glass from somewhere on his left and throwing it at the apparition.

In an explosion of sound and movement, the glass shattered against the opposite wall and shards bounced across the ground.

Ignis was alone.


End file.
